The longest day
By the time this comes out, the summer solstice will have passed. Summer to me is long days, marked with leisure time, reading, later-evening walks while it is still light, iced tea at dinner, bare feet in the grass, and that warm, fragrant smell as the heat picks up and carries the scent of the blossoms and plants in a new way.
And the summer solstice feels like a turning point.
Like that moment we officially move out of spring and start to step fully into summer. This season of course has its logistical weather aspects, but the psychology of summer is what tickles me the most. The vibe is different. There is light (and lightness), optimism, energy, exploration, fervor…
It feels like the one time a year we allow ourselves some wildness. It harkens back to “summer” as a kid, which meant freedom and running around, untethered to the “usual” day-to-day that governs the rest of the year. As adults, most of us are still working, but it just feels like this little streak of rebellion and irreverence sneaks in, adding some sparkle to the long days.
It begs the question about why we need a season for this, why can’t we just tap into our wildness any time?
Maybe that is what makes it special. The fleeting nature of it requires us to notice and savor, because in a few short months, it will start to shift again.
But for the meantime, maybe I’ll just run barefoot through the grass to capture that hint of wildness I know still lives deep in me…
